Highland Awakening by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online Page B

chest. She bowed her head in shame. McLeod had swamped her thoughts to such an extent that she hadn’t been able to allow anyone else in. And it wasn’t only fear that he’d reveal her secrets. It was the thrill of having him close to her again.
    “Lady Esme.”
    She went stiff all over. It was him, the silky rumble of his Scottish brogue. He’d come up behind her, his lips very close to her ear. She kept her head bent, gazing down over the railing. “Mr. McLeod,” she whispered.
    “Where’s your wee notebook tonight?” he asked, pressing his body between her and the tree. She squeezed closer to the other tree to give him more room.
    She didn’t move her eyes from their focus upon the railing. “I…didn’t bring it to the party.”
    “Is it hiding in your bedchamber, then? Upstairs?”
    She glanced toward the dark window at the corner of the upper story of the house. He followed her gaze, a smile curling on his lips.
    “Is that your bedchamber, Esme? That one?” The brazen man pointed directly at her room. “Is that where I can find your notebook?”
    She ground her teeth. “That’s none of your business, sir.”
    “I intend to make it my business.”
    The wickedness of his words sent a strange jolt of heat through her. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to harden her resolve. Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she said, “You mustn’t tell anyone where I was last night.”
    “Why not?”
    She swung her head around to face him, knowing he had to be teasing, as she didn’t think he was that dim-witted. “Because it will put the final nail in the coffin of my reputation. And worse, it would hurt my family.”
    “I see.” He gave a low, deprecating laugh. “Well, if I’d wanted to tell anyone, lass, I already would have. I’ve no interest in those people or their gossip.”
    He seemed sincere, and relief washed over her.
    “But what I do have an interest in,
Lady
Esme, is you.”
    Her heart pounded so hard he must have been able to hear it. He was a flash of white-hot energy in the cool night air. He was
electric,
and his presence, so close to her, made her skin prickle with sensitivity.
    “Why was an innocent lass like you—the sister of the
Duke of Trent,
no less—in that whorehouse last night?” He moved closer to her, the length and heat of his body just an inch away from hers. “What’s in that notebook of yours?”
    She gripped the railing so tightly the white of her knuckles seemed to glow in the dim light. “That’s none of your concern,” she said faintly.
    “Oh, but you’re wrong about that, milady. I’m concerned.” He inched close enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath on her lips. “
Deeply
concerned.”
    “You shouldn’t be.”
    “Here’s what I’d like to know,” he murmured, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. “Why did you kiss me when you’re marrying that bore Henry Whitworth?”
    Esme squeezed her eyes shut. McLeod reached around her, and the tips of his fingers skimmed down her arm, from the top of her sleeve to her wrist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake that made her shudder.
    “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she pushed out through her closed throat. “It was very wrong of me. I can’t do it again.” She gripped the railing even tighter, fighting her body’s impulse to press against him, to lose herself in the heat of his embrace.
    “You dinna love Henry Whitworth,” he whispered, his lips skimming the shell of her ear.
    “How…how can you possibly know that?” she managed.
    His laughter was a soft puff in her ear. “Oh, I ken,” he said confidently. “You dinna want him.” After a beat of silence, he added, “End it now, before ’tis too late.”
    She gasped and straightened, every muscle in her body going rigid in anger. How dare he presume to know whom she loved and what she should do with her life?
    “You are very forward, sir.”
    He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Shocked by the